


Discovery

by PockyGhost



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Dildos, Fantasizing, M/M, Masterbation, Omega Verse, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:45:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PockyGhost/pseuds/PockyGhost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is an Omega, the gender most slighted by society, yet he finds it in himself to mentally and emotionally rise above it, despite whatever real physical restraints there are. After some trial, he and Sherlock find in each other that for which they had been looking-- a discovery of the other half of one's soul. Still, nothing seems to come easily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Building One's Self

**Author's Note:**

> Blah, so I tried to find any concrete rules for Omega!verse, and got none, so if this breaks any laws of fandom... I am so sorry. I decided to tweak it a bit-- there is only male genitalia and, therefore, only men. I wanted Alpha, Omega, and Beta to be the only genders, because otherwise I get confused as to how everything works in a sexual way... but, anyways, that is why everyone will be referred to as a 'him'. Annnnd, this is my first Omega!verse, my first fic on here, and my first writing of anything even slightly pornographic so... hang in there. Un-bettaed and un-britpicked, but you're welcome to point out anything I can fix :)

John Watson was born to a completely ordinary family in a completely ordinary town, and even the people of his home town thought John more typical than the rest of them. His parents were both Betas with a naturally unassuming nature his brother the typical Omega—always weak and wanting. John had assumed (as had everyone else) he would end up a Beta like his parents, as the instability of growth and hormones made gender impossible to tell until sexual ability was reached, which usually happened first for Alphas and Omegas. So, as most of his classmates had already made their distinctions, everyone assumed him to be a completely average Beta, not at all conflicting with his image. It came as a surprise to everyone when he hit puberty and suddenly was not as dull and unassuming as before.

John thanked God every day of his childhood that he hit puberty over the summer, because he had seen students reeking of pheromones and humiliation walk through the hall during class time, and heard all the snarky and mean-spirited things children had to say of their peers whom turned out to be Alphas or Omegas. Alphas at least could have pride in their oversized erections mistakenly put on by another student’s scent, but Omegas were escorted meekly with the backside of their pants moist and dripping, nothing but shame.

For him, it had been one late-in morning in the middle of June. His parents were at work, and Harry was probably out getting shagged by a passing sexual favorite. John had felt odd the past few days, the night before in particular—almost like he might be ill, but instead of a need to avoid eating (as was typical when he was sick), he shoveled food down his face like he was preparing for hibernation. It was not until a week later, when he was more in control of his body’s desires, that he read about how this over-eating did prepare for a lack of food, though not because of a harsh winter. It merely kept an Omega from focusing on other bodily needs, besides their lust, when they were in heat.

John woke to a raging hard on and a wetness in his pants that he attributed to ejaculation during sleep, as his was too tired to process the exact placement of the moist spot. Considering that no one was home, John felt he should be entitled to a nice morning wank, but when his fingers slid around his straining cock, he suddenly felt the longing of his backside. Though the small stimulation of his blood-engorged flesh felt nice, his body screamed for a different type of fulfillment. It was with great confusion and the instinct of his blood that he moved his other hand to the small entrance in the cleft of his arse. Even just the lightest contact had him moaning and more viscous liquid squeezing out from his hole to lubricate it. It did not take him long to orgasm after the first finger was inserted, but he felt empty and longing and in need of more. Unsure of what was going on, he reverted back to childhood and asked his father what to do—the man was a nurse and John was sure he would know.

He received an answering text not long after his inquiry, simply stating that he should do whatever felt best, and that his father would bring him something to fix his discomfort when he got out from the hospital. So, that was what John did. The rest of his day was spent impaling himself on fingers that never quite reached far enough and leaving wet patches all over his sheets from his constant self-lubrication and all the time he had cum. 

When his father arrived, he did nothing more than discreetly knock and leave a package outside John’s door. The box pictured a long, thick purple dildo with ridiculous quotes such as “Sweet Sat-ASS-faction” and “Nothing better imitates a good Alpha cock” spread out on the design. The next week had John using the embarrassing tool almost every moment of consciousness and google-ing the better positions and patterns to bring himself relief. Besides a small note from his parents assuring him that there was nothing to be ashamed of, and his brother’s short rant outside the door about how he never let him having anything special to himself, John had no contact in a full six days, but he did nothing to express his loneliness. John was sure Harry went through the same emotions when he went through heat. He did not want to complain about something that so inconvenienced his family. So John suffered alone.

John was a fast learner, and when school started up he always paid careful attention to his body so that he was never the shamed Omega walking wet down the hallway. No one questioned his strong set of pheromones except the school nurse who was obligated to record everyone’s gender, though some not so subtle looks were given by Alpha schoolmates. 

It was about this time, as John became more secure with himself and his social standing, that Harry found himself a large Alpha who promised him the world. Whenever Harry was present (which became frequently less often), everything was “Charles” this or “Charles” that. No one was in doubt that they would bond and have many children together, if their rather insatiable sexual appetites were anything to go by. Those in the Watson family often walked about their house and found Harry and Charles in a variety of compromising situations. When John tried to complain about their use of his bedroom, Father and Dad promptly told him to hush, that one day he would be in Harry’s situation and would not want any limitations either. They were “trying to form a bond that will last a lifetime.”

This “bond” fell apart two months later. For the first half year of their relationship, Harry avoided having Charles around for hid heat, but after that marker (and the consent of both sets of parents) Harry decided he would love to have Charles’s children and become the traditional kept Omega. Both pairs of parents chipped in and bought their boys a weeklong stay at a nice hotel for Harry’s heat cycle.

The first time Harry came home not pregnant, everyone seemed to pass it off as a freak accident—improbable, but it sometimes happened. But the second time his womb was empty after a shared heat, it lead to anxiety in the parents and a great deal of fighting between Harry and his lover. John, partially out of pity and partially out petty revenge never offered up the unspoken theory that Harry might be barren. As he had learned from his small journeys into the world of medicine in hopes of becoming a doctor, John had learned that even some Omegas were infertile, despite their use as a fertility and sex symbol. Often such a condition was caused by trauma or severe injuries, but every so rarely an Omega was simply unable to accept child.

Eventually, one of Charles’s parents brought up the idea of infertility themselves. It was not until John felt the urge to defend his elder brother that he realized societal norms had also affected his own immediate reaction—society declared that Alphas could never be anything less than perfect, so of course everyone assumed Harry to be barren and not the possibility of impotence on Charles’s side. Later on that night, long after the shouts of everyone had faded and Harry wept silently in his room, John crawled into bed with his emotionally unstable brother and whispered assurances into his ears until early morning. Not even a week later, Harry had himself a new boyfriend. The fact that this new man was a Beta, as were all the boyfriends after, seemed to escape everyone’s notice except John’s. He chose not to judge his brother.

In middle school, John was hounded at school for his gender (the same way Omegas were often mocked everywhere except when owned by a possessive and aggressive Alpha), but he never let himself be put down. As he grew through his teenage years, many laws were passed to enforce equality for Omegas. They were now at least guaranteed minimum wage at any job they were allowed into, and an amendment had been made to take back the “Fair Game” law which had saved many a rapist from jail as their victims had been unbounded Omegas, and finally Omegas were to be allowed into the military. Omegas Rights groups kept pressing for equality, but it seemed that the military was as far as any Alpha’s ego would let them go. Scandals broke out as Omegas at the head of their movement were found killed or beaten so badly they were in a coma. Of course their Alphas were outraged and, as prominent men in the world, ordered that the best forces were put to use in finding those that had assaulted their Omegas. John, at the time the attacks started, was eighteen.

He was faced with the conundrum as how to possibly exert his dominance over his unfortunate gender. Luckily, he found a way to put his newly developing medical knowledge to use. While other potential doctors tried to fight the stress away when class was out, John was experimenting with Omega hormones. Not but a month before he was to be deployed to Afghanistan did he break through with a pill that would basically stifle his Omega hormones, both giving him the scent of a Beta (as they lacked distinct smelling hormones) and repress his heat. Throughout his military career, he always found the time to make and take his pill on a regular enough basis.

Life in the military was just as exciting as he had hoped it would be—possibly even more so. With the appearance of a Beta, no one tried to sexualize or coddle him. As a Captain and a great doctor, he earned the respect and authority he deserved. No one dared to speak ill of Captain Watson, less they be faced with the wrath of the rest of their camp. Almost everyone had been patched up by him, or had a close friend whom had. John made himself a life worth living, only to lose it with a shot to the shoulder.

Now, John’s time after Afghanistan and before Sherlock was never bad. Bad would imply that there was some emotion or feeling he had during the few weeks. It was so much worse than bad, because it was nothing. He stopped taking his hormone suppressants just for the hope of experiencing something, but it seemed that the medication’s effects lasted longer than the use. A few days after John had expected his heat to start and it hadn’t, he almost grieved that he would not even be feeling his forced sexual emotions for a while. Though his gun had become familiar with the war, he saw even more of it as he came back home. Many a day was spent looking at the trigger and remembering just how easy it had been the squeeze and end a life, contemplating doing the same to himself.

For all his previous not-boring life, it was only after he met Sherlock that he realized how truly pedestrian his life had been. Sherlock set his world on fire, purposefully put monsters beneath his bed at night—left him scared but never alone. Perhaps the first moment John recognized his love for Sherlock was at the pool, when Sherlock was going to spare Moriarty’s life to save John’s own, but bypassed his Alpha hormones saying to save John (save the Omega!) from a mere command by the captive himself, “blow him up, Sherlock! Trust me, now!” But upon later reflection, he would find that he started loving Sherlock when they giggled at the death of the cabbie, and Sherlock knew that an Omega had directly caused the death of an Alpha, a ridiculously severely punished crime (as if being killed by an Omega was degrading and far beneath an Alpha), and Sherlock had only seemed impressed and a bit charmed. John soon thought it was irrelevant, though, as either way he was screwed, and not at all in the good way.


	2. Exploring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick thing! Sherlock and John are not together-together in the beginning of this. John is merely enjoying their ability to be comfortable around each other and reflecting on his feelings for Sherlock.
> 
> Also, un-betaed and un-britpicked-- anyone willing to point out my horrible American mistakes is very welcome (even encouraged!) to do so!
> 
> And, well, like I said, everyone in this story is a man. So, you will probably be able to figure it out on your own, but for the Names in Pride and Prejudice, I changed Elizabeth's name to Ellis, and his nickname is Lissy (like how Elizabeth was Lizzy, but Ellis doesn't have a 'z'). Stupid, I know, but I couldn't find a male equivalent to Elizabeth that I thought fit better, and I wanted to be consistent with my all-male rule. And, Clair is for Clara. Clair is apparently the male equivalent… So, there you have it, my sucky excuses for being sucky! <3 Hope you enjoy anyways, haha.

As Sherlock evaluated his mind palace on the couch, John did not mind the small show of domesticity that making two cups of tea seemed to be. Even precisely knowing the way Sherlock took Earl Grey did not ruffle his feathers when his partner seemed so absent. Not that Sherlock being absent was a good thing!—but John found it relaxing and homey to be in the same room as his flatmate without thinking of impending murder or a million different types of tobacco ash. Just sitting and knowing Sherlock would not move for the world, but if John somehow weaseled a cuppa in his hands, Sherlock would take the occasional sip; just sitting and knowing that to Sherlock, he was worth more than the world.

John sighed delicately, afraid of ‘thinking too loud’, and picked up the novel he had been reading. Truly, he wasn’t really one to read a love story, but for Pride and Prejudice he made an exception. It brought back memories of his family gathered together on particularly cold days and listening to his Dad’s voice as he was read to. Of course, this only happened when it was Father’s day to choose the book, as it seemed the effeminate man was the only one in the house with a love of Joe Austen. Harry tended to choose romance novels with a swifter satisfaction, as he always wanted immediate gratification, and Dad more often than not chose to read them classics like The Iliad and The Odyssey. However, they were sweet memories of a family that fit together despite all being pieces of a different puzzle. So, John enjoyed it as Ellis and Mr. Darcy danced around each other and tried to hide their growing affections. He chuckled as Lissy turned down Mr. Darcy’s first proposal and the choice words he had used. Ah, there was a time when he would have just as vehemently denied any attraction to Sherlock, but he knows how the book ends and knows that they end up living a fairy tale while Sherlock acts insane and cannot even stop ordering John around even when the Omega is absent from his presence. Another light laugh, this one more wistful, and Sherlock refocuses his attention onto the doctor.

“Amusing yourself, John? Do try to keep your thoughts down, it’s disturbing my process,” the Alpha says patronizingly.

Any other day John would find a snarky reply and give them a nice row, because sometimes it feels good to fight when you don’t mean it, but he can tell the other man must be making renovations to the building or something, as his face looks intent. One last audible slurp of tea, the noise made quite on purpose, and he is done disturbing his flatmate and beings to read his much-abused paperback in silence.

“Days truly don’t get better than this,” he thinks to himself.

*~*~*~*~*

A heat is very personal. Usually, and Omega can tell when their heat is coming (even if they don’t keep it logged in their calendar) by the way their body feels up to three days prior. John’s first heat since Afghanistan was a few months after moving in with Sherlock. Luckily, he had been paying attention to his increased emotions and unending appetite. He made rush plans to stay with Harry, though Harry’s drinking had recently driven off another potential mate, and Sherlock seemed almost to not care that John would be away for a week.

When the taxi stopped in front of Harry’s house, John could not escape fast enough. His Omega scent had another day before it became noticeably strong, but his body’s natural preparation for a heat was kicking in. All he wanted was to eat for hours, make a nest, and snuggle up to an Alpha.

Harry’s car was not in the driveway, and John correctly assumed that his brother was out drowning in alcohol and the attention of other men. Digging into the pockets of his overnight bag, John found his key and let himself in. The kitchen was his first priority, and he was immensely glad his brother was of the same gender, because Harry had left the perfect supplies for his week of lusty hell. Food rich in nutrients stocked the pantry and fridge for his pre-heat feast, and a box of bottled water waited patiently to be taken to the guest room and consumed during the moments his libido calmed enough for bodily requirements. A note rested atop the waters, and John read it while messily partaking of the juiciest peach he had ever had the pleasure of ingesting.

“Dear John,

As you know, Clair and I have split up, so the house is yours for a week while I hunt for a new boytoy. Hope things work out for you and your Alpha Sherly, or whatever his name was,

Enjoy yourself, twat,

Harry”

Even as nectar from the fruit started to roll down his chin and the chemistry of his body fought to make his impressionable and joyous, John could not help but hurt for his brother. Clair was the first Alpha Harry had been with since Charles, and Clair had stuck with Harry even though he was infertile, but sadly left because of Harry’s addiction to the bottle.

As upset as John was becoming because of Harry’s self-destruction, he decided to leave the topic for another time, and grabbed a week’s worth of supplies before dragging his things to the guest room Harry had decorated with him in mind. The mattress was large and sat directly on the floor, lacking a frame which would only have gotten in his way. It was pushed up into one of the corners and had a plethora of pillows so John could rearrange them and settle his nesting instinct. He immediately began to pull and push the few pieces of furniture to positions that seemed to most protective. The dresser ended up blocking the hall doorway, and a small nightstand held his bowlful of food and water. Once all major changes were done with, John took a blanket and couch pillow out from his bad that he had snagged from 221B. They were the last things Sherlock had slept with, and as each time Sherlock passed out it was with different linens, John knew the small tokens would not be missed. He held them tightly to his face and breathed in—assessing that Sherlock’s scent on them would be adequate for his time spent in mindless lust.

Not only did John still have his first dildo (that purple one his father had bought him), but also various other tools that he collected over the years to make his solitary heats as pleasurable as possible. In recent times, the Omegas had put up enough of a stand to get a new type of toy on the market; it was a dildo with an inflatable knot that was supposed to actually satisfy an Omega whom wished to go through heat without company. As his heats had been suppressed until just recently, John had not yet had the chance to try out his new toy, but he had bought one in preparation and was excited to see if it had quite the effect that the Omegas he knew claimed it did. John had to admit that even with a regular dildo he still felt emptiness during self-corrected heats. He placed the new purchase next to the head of the bed, finished his gathering of nutrients, and settled in for a long nap until the hormones really kicked in.

*~*~*~*~*

In all his years, John had never once the smell of an Alpha near him during his heat. When he woke to his arse leaking pheromones and Sherlock’s pillow right beneath his nose, he almost came on the spot. Of course his biological necessities kept him from such a quick release, but the raw and primal feeling of having a potential mate nearby drove his body into overload. He nearly tripped over his own limbs in the rush to grab the closest toy—that new one with the knot. Now really, there was no need to take things slowly as the heat taking over his body made sure his muscles were loose enough to accommodate a truck (or sometimes it felt like it, at least), but coming quicker did nothing to shorten the length of a cycle, so John took his time.

Each slow drag of the dildo inside him made John practically insane. He licked and chewed on the sheets beneath, growled and barked at no one, and tortured himself deliciously. There was something truly decadent about pleasuring one’s self while reading various adult novels and letting double dark chocolate gelato melt into one’s mouth. John simple could not get enough. 

And the knot! His new toy with the simulated knot; well, let’s say John did not even consider trying another device to help reach satisfaction. Merely triggering the inflatable sac began to cause him to see white from the anticipation of the 4.3 seconds it took for the thing to safely fill him. Thinking back to all the unfulfilling heats of his young adulthood, John could truly appreciate the revolutionary genius of such a tool. Back in the old days, John knew his body still yearned for the presence of an Alpha to be pleasured. Now, he imagined that if he did not already want to be with Sherlock even outside of his heat, then there would be no issues about control as to abstaining from Alpha assistance. Simply one of the new dildos and a small packet of Alpha pheromones or an item from an unbounded Alpha’s house and Omegas would theoretically never want for an Alpha again. That was probably why such an obvious design was not put up for sale earlier in the times of the near tyrannical Alpha reign.

Still, John felt like a price his entire heat. When the gelato was all melted, he entertained his tongue by licking out the contents, and when his limited supply of written porn ran out, he was calmed down enough from his craze to form his own fantasies rather than rely on another’s. Harry never once came home during the entire seven day period John’s hormones took over, and he was blessedly left alone (except that when being alone meant separate from Sherlock, it seemed to be hell).

It wasn’t until the last day that he began to feel like the mess he really was, and worry over the lack of contact. John didn’t really care if Sherlock cared that he was gone, but even if he was at the flat, he normally would have received at least a text message for a grocery list or something. Harry, too, should have sent something his way, as they were raised on the same expectations so he knew his brother would not simply forget the courtesy their parents taught. Though, with his scent still strong enough to get himself raped the moment someone of his complimentary gender caught a whiff and his body still overly needy and sensitive, he could do no more than shoot a quick concerned message to the two people that most took up his thoughts before a long last round and the deep sleep which was practically a coma that happened after nearly ever Omega’s heat.

After waking from the near twenty hour nap, he was happy to see that Sherlock had taken enough of his precious time to be mildly considerate and ease John’s fears with a quick “I’m busy –SH”. Harry, however, had yet to say anything back and John’s anxiety grew as he packed and cleaned the room he had stayed in. When the cab pulled up in front and John locked the house door behind him, he made plans to contact Clair and the owners of Harry’s two favorite bars to make sure the man hadn’t gotten up to any trouble. Surely his older brother could take care of himself for a week; John just thought it would be better safe than sorry. No one knew as well as he and Sherlock how many crazies there were out there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... I hope that wasn't too awkward. Please, feedback! I live for people telling me what I'm doing wrong so I can fix that shit.


	3. Not Accepting the Worst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, just wanted to let all you readers know you’re freaking awesome and that I love you for reading my story because—god, I so have no confidence in my writing, haha. So, as the first two chapters had masturbation scenes that left me wondering whether or not they were awkward, this chapter has a lot of dialog which I’m not very comfortable with. I tried to keep it realistic, but I always end up making the dialog seem off somehow… 
> 
> Anyways, in this chapter there is an insult used—“genderless”, and I’m going to say that it’s a derogatory term used in reference to a Beta’s lack of distinct aroma or characteristics. So, there you go, I made my own insult for a fic, and if you’re confused as to what it means, it’s probably because you didn’t read my author’s note in the first place, and therefore your fault. Or mine. Lol.
> 
> Oh, and if you run into the name ‘Jeff’ anywhere in this chapter, let me know so I can change it. I used Jeff as a name of one of the characters until I decided that it made for too many “common” names and changed it. Thanks! You could also let me know if you see any errors at all, I don’t bite; in fact, I’d appreciate it.
> 
> Oh, and if anyone could find out of the kindness in their souls the time to tell me how to make italics on this site, you'd be my hero. Or at least let me know if you ever CAN make italics on here, lol.
> 
> I hope you like this chapter! It’s a little longer than the other two because you guys had to wait extra long for it (sorry)!

Once back home and done with his mourning over the arm and leg he gave to the taxi driver for his home trip—after all, a heat free of responsibilities had made the money seem like it was spent on a luxurious trip—John carried his luggage up without a single hitch from his leg (he always seemed to remember his past injury when walking up something was involved). He could hear Sherlock tinkering around in the kitchen with what has assumed was the chemistry set atop their table, as last time the Alpha had used their cups and other dishes John had threatened the man within the restraints of the law and Sherlock seemed to grasp his point. 

Setting down the case to wheel along the bulky suitcases as long as he was on level ground, he wondered at how Sherlock would greet him. Over their time living together and forming a friendship, they had much quality time to get used to each other’s personalities. The thing was, though, that being used to Sherlock did not mean he could predict what the man would do any more than a random stranger off the side of the road could. He prepared himself to be swept immediately out the door for a case and to be interrogated about his week away just to be ready for the two extremes he could think of. Therefore, he was very surprised to have made it up the stairs and through putting away three quarters of his clothes before a quick and well enunciated “John” floated into his room.

John set down the trousers he had been refolding and walked down the stair before asking what is was Sherlock wanted. Once at the bottom of the steps, he realized he should have prepared for a certain amount of frazzled urgency as that was what was typically happening in their home, and now was no different. Sherlock was running around in a flurry of excited and random movements that typically meant he was about to rush them out the door. This on the spot assumption was proven right when the Alpha suddenly grabbed John’s jacket and slung it over the soldier’s shoulders exclaiming, “Finally, a case!” John smiled and followed the man out onto the streets.

*~*~*~*~*

After settling back in from their companionable night out chasing the criminals of London and listening to Sherlock rant about the brainless masses of petty miscreants, John began to make tea. Darjeeling was one of his favorites, and they still had some left, so he set out the bags as the water came to a boil. Sherlock never complained about Darjeeling, either.

He was humming to the tune of one of the new songs on the radio when the sound of the television suddenly rocketed up, Sherlock’s none too subtle way of telling him to shut up. He huffed under his breath before grabbing the ready mugs and bringing them to the living room. If he served it, the Alpha might actually take the time to ingest the biscuits he put on the side of the saucer.

They had a few hours of mostly silence while watching popular trivia shows. Occasionally Sherlock would interject to say the show had their information wrong, or to elaborate on a point of his knowledgeable interest, but even he seemed subdued and tired. “Probably hasn’t eaten or slept or done anything remotely necessary since he realized I wasn’t here to keep track of him,” John thought while observing the other man with a doctor’s eye. Sherlock eventually decided to give into his body’s demands and walked dignifiedly to his bedroom as John changed the channel to news.

It wasn’t long until a story caught his attention; something he hadn’t heard about since the beginning of his army days—an attack apparently led against Omegas by an organized group. The newscasters started with a shocking headline of “Anti-Omega Terrorists Coming Back?” and a few shit polls claiming that roughly half of the population believed Omegas had too much freedom since the movement over a decade ago. It took a few minutes for the actual meat of the story to be presented, but it still made John’s blood run cold. A Beta supremacist group claimed to be working to sterilize the population of Omegas and already had over a hundred confirmed kidnappings, though they claimed more.

Apparently the story had gotten coverage since three days prior, but John was not surprised by this insignificant fact. The thing about living so close with Sherlock Holmes is that one only really knows the crimes he’s working to solve—there’s not often time for much else. That, combined with his week off for heat, made it nearly impossible for John to have known about the abductions. This just makes him feel worse because—Harry!

John forced himself to be calm. He learned that in the military; be prepared for the worst but do not accept it until it’s proven. As an army doctor he had thrived in situations which placed him under stress. He tried to think, maybe not logically but as typical as possible. “Still haven’t called anyone yet, I need to call Clair and the bars and that one boy, Kashif, Harry’s been close with him,” he thought. He didn’t rush, but took full advantage of every movement and wasted no time reaching for the phone. Clair was first.

“Hello, John, what is it you need?” the Alpha’s voice sounded sad, but then the man always sounded sad since the first day he caught Harry with a bottle.

“Has,” his voice broke and John had to work even harder to control himself, trying not to cry yet as there was nothing concrete to cry about. “Has Harry been by anytime lately? I know he still tries to pop in on you, and I haven’t heard from him in a little over a week…”

“No, sorry. Usually he’s up here every few days, but I haven’t seen him for a week. When you do hear from him, could you tell ‘im… Tell him I didn’t mean what I said last Wednesday? He’ll know what I mean.”

As odd as it was, Clair’s request actually calmed his nervous some. “Harry’s probably just out on another bender; sleeping with anything that moved and practically bathing in alcohol,” he tried to reassure himself. “Of course, I’m sorry to ‘ave bothered you,” he replied. He and Clair had got along well when the Alpha and Harry had been together, but now it was starting to get awkward between them. In some of his worse moments, Harry accused John of wanting to steal Clair from him and honestly John had a hard time saying that it wasn’t something he thought of before meeting Sherlock.

“Bye John,” rang back with such strength and sincerity that John felt his nerves calm even more. Of course, that could always just be the natural effects that an Alpha has on an Omega.

John made himself another cup of Darjeeling and let the warmth radiated throughout his body before again picking up the phone. He decided to call Elija (the owner of Harry’s most frequented bar, Aura, which actually catered to Omega/Alpha pairings) because the man was soft-spoken and shy, and he wouldn’t have to deal with the chit-chat he knew the other bar owner and Jeff would make him sit through.

Elija quickly stumbled through answering his questions, saying that Harry had actually stopped coming to the bar two weeks ago and before that, didn’t come by as often as he usually did. Therefore, there was nothing to worry about from the fact that he couldn’t locate the other Omega.

Uncharacteristically, Elija made a comment unprompted. “I’m, ah, sure that Harry will be fine. There’s a, uhm, new group of Alphas that started coming here before Harry, uh, stopped coming by as often and he got along with them. One of their guys hasn’t, ah, been coming recently, they might have hooked up. I wish Harry the best,” the man reported in his halting Spanish accent. John thanked him and moved on to the next person on his list, that man Kashif.

Kashif had been a quiet man back in their uni days, but by rekindling his old friendship with Mike, John had inadvertently signed himself up to again befriend many of their old acquaintances. Mike, Kashif, John, and a few other doctors had gotten together for drinks one night when Harry came in to give John a good fight. He had, admittedly, overreacted on the phone with Harry earlier when the man refused to see a psychologist about his trust isues—Harry’s, not John’s. When Harry came in fuming and ready to blow, Kashif’s shy persona fell off and he propositioned Harry with a beer. Everyone at their gathering was shocked to find that he even had the courage to speak to someone new, let alone take the dominant role in a conversation. After that night, John knew for a fact that Harry and Kashif had met up multiple times for what Harry called a date and most other people would call wild, endless sex. They had grown close, and though John resented that Kashif seemed to have no trouble being nothing more than (put frankly) fuck-buddies with Harry. He had the man’s number and felt the need to, as Sherlock had taught him, gather as many accounts as possible to built as complete an image as he could.

Kashif answered on the first ring with and eager, “Yes?” For a moment, John was shocked by the enthusiasm with which Kashif greeted him, but then he remembered a conversation at the bar in which one of his mates had made fun of Kashif for keeping his contacts last name first. He figured Kashif had only read ‘Watson’ before answering, as John had only called him once before.

“Hey Kashif, it’s John,” the disappointed breath expelled on the other side of the line confirmed John’s small deduction,” and I was wondering if you’ve hung out with Harry lately.”

Now, John didn’t know he had any expectations for Kashif’s response, but when the man spoke, he knew his expectations for the entire encounter were wrong. “Well, John,” such sarcastic weight was put on his name that he felt as though he must be a piece of crap stuck to the Beta’s shoe, “I might tell you the last time I saw Harry if I didn’t know how you treat your brother! He told me all about you an Clair, and that you kick him out of his house for your heats—you filthy Omega. It’s people like you that bring shame to the Omega gender!”

At a loss of words, much in the same way he had been when Kashif first propositioned Harry, John could only manage an incredulous, “What?”

“Last time Harry and I were together, he told me about your stealing Clair from him because you couldn’t stand to see him happy when you’re alone; he’s your older brother for heaven’s sake, by quite a few years, but you can’t let him find a bondmate first? It’s conniving, bastard Omegas like you that make sexist people justified. You’re nothing but a petty whore ready to spread your legs to deny your own brother his happiness!”

John could attest, people were being idiotic bigots when they stereotyped Omegas as beings ruled by their emotions and their sexual appetites. However, as an Omega, he could admit that his emotions did influence many of his responses, though not everything was an emotional response. Anger, however, was a particularly potent emotion.

“Hey now, you genderless arsehole, I bloody love my brother and haven’t done anything to ever take away his happiness! Clair left ‘im because he’s a bloody drunk, not because of anything I’ve ever done!”

“Fuck you, your brother’s not alcoholic, you just think that because you became a doctor against the odds that you have to hound him for enjoying life! He’s wanted nothing but to have a life of his own, but you and your parent’s will stop at nothing to control him!”

John almost wanted to laugh at Kashif’s ignorance. Well, if Harry was able to feed an old friend of his such lies, then the man had to be well enough. “Is that what he’s told you? You don’t know anything. He is an alcoholic, our parents are saints, and I’ve never forced him to do anything before in my life. I’ve asked him, sure, but never forced him. Because you’re nothing but a genderless idiot, you wouldn’t understand, so just stop being so bloody rude and tell me if you’ve seen Harry!”

“You think you can tell him not to see me, but we love each other. I’ll find him and tell him everything you said about me was a lie and he’l run away with me—“ John hung up the phone. Obviously, if Kashif was claiming he had talked Harry out of seeing him then he hadn’t been in contact with Harry recently. The niggling little worry grew again in his mind. How had Harry managed to avoid three of the four most frequent people in his life? Maybe Harry had found himself an Alpha like Elija said and was off spending that honeymoon period that is necessary to form a strong bond, but John didn’t think his brother would run off without first gloating about his ability to attract men like flies.

There was only one last person to call, the bar tender of The Frothy Mug (a beautiful young Beta named Brandon with smooth mocha skin) whom often flirted with John when he went to pick up a sloshed Harry, and the man even seemed to enjoy Harry’s company when he wasn’t starting fights. 

The call was actually fairly normal compared to the one’s earlier, Brandon trying to be helpful while still making little comments like, “Well, I might be able to tell you more if you came over motivated me, sexy,” and a variety of other flirtatious statements. Brandon said that Harry had been by earlier that week, but seemed to have hit it off with a new group of Alphas that had taken to drinking at the Mug every Thursday and Friday; and no, he didn’t know any of their names, they always paid in cash.

After ringing off, John really had no idea what to think. Alphas had a biological imperative that prioritized the safety of Omegas and, the more modern society grew, their happiness as well. It was highly unlikely a group of Alphas had taken Harry and done anything less than savory, but the fact that a new group of Alphas was hanging out at both Aura and The Frothy Mug was too much to be a coincidence. The bars were so entirely the opposite of each other that only an alcoholic or someone with an agenda would frequent both. 

John really wanted to get Sherlock’s opinion of things—the man had no biases unless something was directly related to him—as he would help give a clearer view on where Harry was. But Sherlock was in bed and John refused to steal him from his much needed sleep. Besides, just because an anti-Omega group had formed didn’t mean that Harry suddenly had to be one of their victims. Harry ran off all the time. True, not often for a week, but there had been one time when John was seventeen that he remembers Harry running away for just over two months. Harry was unpredictable like that. So he let it go.

He let the shower peel off his concerns and relax his muscles. Spending a week masturbating and then running around London seemed like a sufficient reason for his tiredness, and the small anxiety attack he gave himself over what was probably just Harry’s selfishness left him emotionally drained. 

After getting dressed in blue and white striped pajamas and lying down in his bed, John silently thanked the god which had responded to his plea to live after getting shot and whichever god whom had known he needed Sherlock to truly be alive again afterwards. Right before drifting off, he again felt that small worry for Harry’s safety in the pit of his stomach, but decided to leave it for tomorrow.


End file.
